


The Rackham+Hamilton Bookclub

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bookclub AU, Cute, Fluffy, Funny, M/M, Modern AU, Woodes Rogers Bashing, a lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: Based off of this thing from Tumblr:Thomas and Jack Rackham start a book club. Their favorite thing to do is write scathing letters to Woodes Rogers about his crappy book.“Dear Sir,”Jack muttered as he began to write.“I feel it my duty to bring to your attention that your esteemed client, the indomitable Woodes Rogers, is a fraudulent, unskilled, feckless, loudmouthed boor."Thomas chuckled, shaking his head.





	The Rackham+Hamilton Bookclub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelastatlantean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastatlantean/gifts).



> Wow, I can't stop can I? Anyway, here we go. Here's another one written today, and again. Can't make it short. Sis asked for 500, she got...well...more than that. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> If anyone would like to take a guess at what book series I'm taking a crack at early on, feel free! Answer is at the bottom.

“Have you read this garbage?” Jack demanded, slamming the offending book down on the table.

Thomas just raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he looked at the book, waiting for Jack's inevitable rant to continue.

“I mean, honestly, who does he think he is? He's not a writer, this should never have been published, it's like they let anything through these days,” he grumbled. Thomas coughed to cover his laugh, refusing to restart the complaints about certain 'young adult romance' books that Jack could go on about for an hour or more if reminded and let run free.

“I'm assuming that's Woodes Rogers' book?” Thomas asked and Jack grunted, pushing the paperback at him with a frown before dumping his bag in a free chair and heading to the counter to order a coffee. Thomas picked up the book and scanned the back cover with a raised eyebrow.

“ _Sailing with the Sunset_ , really?” Thomas mumbled at the title. Thomas had the unfortunate honor of having gone to Oxford with the 'esteemed' Woodes Rogers and he'd always thought he was a bit full of himself. It didn't help that Thomas' husband, James, had gone to Cambridge and he and Rogers had spent the better part of their four years in an intense rivalry in singles rowing. To the point where they had come to blows more than once.

Thomas opened the book and scanned the first page, nearly choking on his coffee as he tried not to laugh. James was going to actually hunt down Rogers and strangle him if he ever got wind of this, and Thomas wasn't sure he'd be trying to restrain his husband.

“Complete garbage, isn't it?” Jack asked, setting his coffee down and falling into his usual seat with a sigh. “I have half a mind to write an anonymous scathing letter to his editor.”

“What would that accomplish?” Thomas asked, flipping through the book.

“It would make me feel better,” Jack muttered, digging in his bag for a pen and paper.

“You're not serious,” Thomas chuckled. “Is this really worth carrying on?”

“Thomas, my dear man, Woodes Rogers is the biggest example of why our schools never got along and why we remain enemies our entire lives,” Jack said as he flipped to a clean page and Thomas stared at him.

“Look,” Jack said, tapping his pen. “It's this, or I let Charles and Anne have him.”

At the threat of Jack's wife and best friend, both of whom had tempers that made James look like a kitten, Thomas sighed and waved him to continue, shaking his had as he went back to the book, scoffing at Rogers' inability to write a single paragraph that stayed on topic.

“ _Dear Sir,”_ Jack muttered as he began to write. _“I feel it my duty to bring to your attention that your_ _esteemed_ _client, the_ _indomitable Woodes Rogers, is a fraudulent, unskilled, feckless, loudmouthed boor. In his new novel,_ Sailing with the Sunset _, he makes it quite clear that despite spending four years on the Oxford Rowing crew, he still knows absolutely nothing about sailing, or ships of any kind. Participating in singles rowing does not qualify you to pretend to know how to sail a ship, nor does taking a few cruises at the expense of daddy's enumerable funds.”_

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head.

“ _Mr. Rogers should be ashamed of himself. There is nothing so tactless as taking wild fiction and trying to sell it to a gullible public as fact. In conclusion, I feel the need to once more summarize my intent to convey my displeasure and state that your client is, in fact, an oaf.”_

“Philistine,” Thomas said and Jack nodded enthusiastically, scratching out oaf and adding philistine.

“Perfect,” he muttered. “I'll type it up and send it in the morning.”

“Personally,” Thomas muttered, flipping through the pages. “I think his editor needs to be shot. No one who works in the publishing industry should have let something that looks like this be printed, purely on the basis of the grammar. Or rather, lack there of.”

“Just what are you two up to over here?” a voice asked and Thomas glanced up, smiling when he saw John, a good friend and the owner of the cafe they frequented, standing over them with his hands on his hips. “And can I get into it?”

“Well, if you'd ever bother to read a book,” Jack muttered and John rolled his eyes, snagging a free chair. It was almost closing time and the trickle of customers had mostly come to a halt, leaving Max, the barista, to deal with the last few.

“I read,” John protested with a grin. “You just seem to think what I read isn't considered readable material.”

“He does have a point, John,” Thomas said, before Jack could start up the old argument. “Cookbooks aren't exactly the height of literature.”

“I'm assuming from the number of rude words on this page that you don't think this is the height of literature either,” John chuckled, plucking the book from Thomas' hands and poking through it.

“It's the most spectacular failure at being a know-it-all I have ever seen,” Jack said, scanning his letter as if he wasn't quite satisfied.

“Is this the one James rowed against?” John asked, peering at the author portrait. “The one I had to drag off him at that bar six months ago?”

“Yes, that's the one,” Thomas sighed, remembering the night the entire group had gone out for drinks and they had stumbled into Rogers' and a group of his snobby friends. Thomas had been in the mens room when the fight had started and he'd returned to find John and Jack holding James back by his arms and Charles standing between them and Rogers. One of Rogers' friends was sporting a bloody nose and another a split lip.

“I take it James doesn't know he's published a book?”

“Not yet,” Thomas sighed. “I'm sure he'll find out sooner or later.”

“Well.” John said, raising with a nod, “Let me know if you need help to beat up Rogers. Or ever pick something I might actually be interested in.”

“We're not reading a cookbook at our book club simply to satisfy you,” Jack muttered and John stuck his tongue out as he headed back behind the counter to begin closing up.

“You know,” Thomas muttered quietly, so only Jack would hear. “I once caught him and James having an argument about _The Odyssey_. Maybe we should make that next months book...I have a feeling John would have a great deal of fun arguing with every single person in our book club.”

Jack sighed, rolling his eyes as he tucked away the notebook and pen. “You know, I don't actually care about recruiting him to our little venture, when it comes to books he is, to use your word, a philistine.”

Thomas snorted, rolling his eyes. “Just because you don't like classical literature.”

“It's dull,” Jack whined. “And slow, and boring, and cliched.”

“It's not cliched, it's the reason cliche's exist,” Thomas pointed out and Jack sighed, waving a hand.

“Fine, fine, I know you're so determined to recruit him. Put _The Odyssey_ down then.”

Thomas nodded with a small smile and added it to his list of potential books for the book club's monthly meeting.

“However I must insist that that,” Jack nudged _Sailing with the Sunset_ , “Never comes near our meetings unless it is to burn Woodes Rogers in effigy.”

“Agree,” Thomas nodded. Glancing up he saw John turning off the open sign and he sighed, standing and stretching out his back, having been sitting far too long at the table. It was the bane of a freelance existence, when you had no work, you spent far too much time in coffee shops and their chairs designed to become more uncomfortable the longer you sat, so that you'd shove off and let the next person have it.

“See you friday,” Thomas called as they went their separate ways and he walked the short blocks to the small house he shared with James, his veins humming with trepidation as he unlocked the door.

Thomas pushed open the door and immediately knew that James knew. He wasn't sure how, but he imagined the loud strains of Metallica, James' 'I'm unreasonably angry' music, might have something to do with it.

“James?” he ventured, poking his head into the kitchen. A copy of _Sailing with the Sunset_ lay on the kitchen table, surprisingly unharmed. James had his back to Thomas and was stirring a pot, rather angrily. “Are you alright, love?” he asked, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around James' waist from behind.

“You mean 'Darling are you going to run out and murder him when I'm not looking?'” James growled and Thomas chuckled against his shoulder.

“I'd really rather you didn't, prison might make a few things somewhat difficult,” Thomas smiled. James turned his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You're assuming I'd get caught. I'm disappointed in you,” he deadpanned and Thomas laughed, squeezing his arms.

“I was worried you'd be more upset,” he said quietly. James shrugged.

“It's been almost twenty years, I don't care that much anymore. That being said, if I ever see the fucker again I'll break his jaw,” James grinned.

“Fair enough,” Thomas grinned, nudging James' hair out of the way to press a kiss to his neck.

“I'm cooking,” James muttered, trying to bat him away.

“Nice to meet you, cooking, I'm distracting,” Thomas said lightly and James whacked his hands with a spoon.

“When did you become so horrendously cheesy?” he asked with irritation, turning the sauce pot off and squirming out of Thomas' arms to drain the pasta that had just finished cooking in the other pot.

“When I realized you'd put up with anything because you love me,” Thomas grinned.

“So, when I married you,” James said, cracking a small smile.

“That may have been a contributing factor,” Thomas said with a chuckled as he grabbed them bowls and forks and they curled up together in front of the television to watch Downton Abbey. Thomas let James eat about half his food before once more moving to distract him and this time not giving up until the television was forgotten and they were tangled together under their sheets.

\- - -

“Well, how did he react?” Jack asked three days later when they met again at the cafe, as they did every Tuesday and Friday when Jack was off work and James was on a night shift.

“He was playing Metallica when I got in,” Thomas said and Jack winced.

“Did you ply him with alcohol and then spend the night-”

“Jack Rackham, keep your language clean in my cafe,” John scolded as he brought their drinks over, frowning at the man.

“John, really, we're the only ones here,” Jack pointed out. There was one lady in the far corner, most definitely out of hearing range, but that was all this time of day.

“My place, my rules. Besides, I don't think he wants to be broadcasting those particular activities to the world,” he said, jerking his head at Thomas.

“I'm no prude,” Thomas said, with some indigence. “I simply feel that it's no ones business what happens in my bedroom.”

“Such a shame then that you and James were caught in the boat shed in third year,” Jack smirked and still, after all these years, Thomas blushed at the reminder.

“Now that's not fair, I caught you and Anne on the roof, for the love of god,” Thomas said.

“That was just you,” Jack waved off. “Not the entirety of the Cambridge rowing team.” Thomas groaned.

“Can't you all forget about that already?” he asked sulkily.

“I wasn't even there,” John smirked, leaving them to their good natured argument.

“What's that?” Jack asked when Thomas had finished his coffee, pulled out his laptop and begun to type an email.

“Revenge,” he smirked, turning the screen enough to show Jack.

“ _Dear sir, I am writing you only as a courtesy, as this letter is for your client. I have enclosed a copy, however it will be published in an opinion column in The Daily Mail tomorrow. If you wish to lodge a complaint, please feel free to contact Mr. Charles Vane, of the opinion column 'Gross Incompetence' at the Mail. I'm sure he'll be happy to take your call.”_

“He will do no such thing,” Jack muttered and Thomas chuckled.

“It's called sarcasm, Jack, I thought you knew how to use it,” he smirked, finishing the email.

“Oh, very funny, Mr. Hamilton, touché,” Jack grumbled.

“I have to get going,” Thomas sighed. “Sorry I can't stay longer, James wants to go out to dinner later at some new Chinese restaurant and I promised him we could since he doesn't go in to work until 1am.”

“Aren't you going to tell me what it says?” Jack asked, pouting.

“You'll just have to read it in tomorrows column, won't you?” Thomas smirked as he closed his laptop and slipping it in his bag, leaving Jack glaring as him as a he headed home, waving to John and Max as he left the cafe.

Seeing his article printed in the paper the next morning brought a smile to Thomas' face as he skimmed it, before leaving the paper on the coffee table for James to find when he returned from his night shift at work.

“ _Mr. Rogers, it has come to my attention that once more you have allowed your substantial ego to disrupt, and I do not say this lightly, reality. You have in fact managed to write the single worst book I have ever read, and not only because of the horrible lack of structure, grammar, and overall competent use of the English language. You have taken pure fantasy and tried to convert it into 'fact and truth', are trying to pass this off to the public as educational when all you are doing is putting lives in danger. You cannot take something as intricate and dangerous as sailing, and attempt to simplify it for the masses to make money and stroke your oversized ego. Below is a select list of 'facts' presented in your book that are at best arbitrary and at worst downright stupid._

_Furthermore, your continued insults of a decorated ex-navy sailor, no matter if you had a university rivalry with him at one time, is completely unacceptable. If I thought submitting a letter of complaint regarding your book to the Admiralty would do anything towards having it removed from publication, be assured I would.”_

The column went on to detail a number of sailing facts that Rogers had gotten blatantly wrong and their corrections before ending on one more pointing out that an ego was no substitute for actual knowledge and warning the public not to be drawn in by a pretty cover and a romantic title.

Thomas was just finishing the mornings crossword when James came home and directly into the kitchen, tossing a copy of the paper, folded open to the column, on the table.

“Did you do this?” he asked, staring hard at Thomas. Thomas smiled, finishing writing in the answer he was putting down before looking up to regard James.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged, smile threatening to widen when he saw the surprise in James' eyes.

“Thomas,” he said, somewhat warningly and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Well, yes, I did. You can't possibly be upset with me,” he said, wondering what on earth could be bothering James.

“I'm not upset, just surprised,” James muttered, still watching Thomas intently.

“At what, the fact that I feel the need to defend my husband when he's being slandered by a two bit hack?” Thomas asked.

“No,” James said quietly. “The fact that you actually pay attention to me when I'm talking.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, shaking his head lightly.

“That and the fact that I had no idea how much of a turn on it would be to know you wrote something so detailed about how to sail a tall ship,” James said blatantly.

Well. Thomas could get on board with that. Emphatically. He hummed happily when James swooped down and sealed their mouths together, one hand resting at the base of Thomas' neck to tilt his face up to just the right angle, causing him to sigh gently.

“I love you,” James whispered, breaking away just enough to be heard.

“I love you too,” Thomas said softly, reaching his own hand up to cup James' cheek. “You look like you're about to ravage me,” he chuckled, brushing at thumb along the swell of James' cheek.

“Would you have a problem with that?” James asked one eyebrow raised. Thomas shook his head with a wicked smirk.

“I have no problem with that at all.”

\- - -

“ _Dear Sir, I must once more reiterate that you are a fanciful moron, and could not pen a coherent paragraph, much less a book. Please pick another profession and stop inflicting your horrible writing on the world. Yours, Jack Rackham.”_

Thomas just rolled his eyes at the letter and bent over the paper to add his own insights.

“ _Dear Mr. 'Grammar is a foreign concept', please see the_ Mirriam-Webster Dictionary _, a Thesaurus, and possibly_ 30 Days to a More Powerful Vocabulary _and_ 1100 Words You Need to Know _. It would go great lengths to demising the appearance of your stupidity, though I doubt it will have much affect on the stupidity itself. Have a nice day. - Thomas Hamilton.”_

“I think they're enjoying this a little too much,” John stage whispered to James as they watched their friends adding short, increasingly rude, comments to the letter.

“I'm not bothered,” James chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “It's not at my expense.”

John nodded at this wisdom and raised his glass, clinking it with James' as Thomas and Jack began to argue of the best way to incorporate the word 'unprepossessing' into an insult.

**Author's Note:**

> So did you guess I was taking a shot at 50 Shades? Well, you'd be right. *snigger* I just had to. 
> 
> I’m on Tumblr [Beneath The Black Sails](http://www.beneaththeblacksails.tumblr.com)


End file.
